Vaughn and River were the high school sweethearts
everyone expected to fail. And they did. But not because of any shortage of
love. Oh no. The town bad boy and the bubbly class president had that in
spades. What they didn’t have was the truth—or the ability to defeat the forces
that kept them apart. Vaughn never left River completely, however, because the
night he left town for good, they conceived a child. Now Vaughn has returned to
earn back his family—and River’s love—any way he can.
He has one last chance to deserve the girl of his
dreams...
Overachiever River Purcell was never supposed to be a
struggling single mom, working double shifts just to make ends meet. Nor was
she supposed to be abandoned by her high school sweetheart, breaking her heart
into a thousand jagged pieces. Now Vaughn De Matteo is back in town, his sights
set on her...and River is in danger of drowning a second time.
No one believed Hook's resident bad boy was good enough
for River. Not even Vaughn himself. But he'll fight like hell to win back the
woman he never stopped loving, to keep the daughter he never expected, and
convince himself he's worth their love in the process––even if he has to rely
on their fierce and undeniable sexual chemistry.
But even as River's body arches under his hungered touch,
the demons of the past lurk in the shadows. Waiting for Vaughn to repeat his
mistakes one last time...
Forty-nine months and
three days.
That was how long it
had been since he’d seen her.
Vaughn swayed to the
right, his shoulder slamming up against the wall. Then he kind of just hung
there, counting forward and backward from one to ten. Not helping. Not helping.
His stomach pitched at the sight of River walking through the drunks, like a nurse
walking among the wounded on a battlefield. She could still knock his lights
out on sight. Not that he’d doubted it for a second. But God, if it were
possible, she’d grown even more beautiful over the last forty-nine months. Her
blond hair was tied up in a ponytail, a pencil stuck through the base, in a way
he remembered well enough to make his throat go raw. In a short black skirt and
fitted white T-shirt, River tried to look the part of indifferent barmaid, but
didn’t pull it off.
Not by a stretch.
Eyes Vaughn knew were
just a shade darker than cornflower blue flitted to each table, and her fingers
tugged on the skirt’s hem self-consciously every time she approached a new one.
When she fumbled with the notepad, recovering with a nervous laugh, a choked
sound left Vaughn. “Riv,” he whispered.
She looked up so
fast, he might as well have shouted. The sudden impact of having River’s focus
on him after such an extended period of time without it released a rushing
sound between his ears, blocking out the sad lounge act…and apparently someone
asking if he needed a table. Because when Vaughn snapped back to reality, a man
he towered over by at least a foot was in his face. Snapping his fingers.
“I wouldn’t…” Vaughn
shook his head to clear it, experiencing a resurgence of anger, this time for
having his attention diverted from where he needed it to be. On River.
“I wouldn’t advise
snapping your fingers in my face again.”
“Why’s that, huh?”
A toss of blond hair
snagged Vaughn’s gaze as his angelic ex-girlfriend zigzagged through the crowd,
drawing more than just his notice. Ah no, quite the opposite. She was putting
on an unwitting show for every man in the room, attracting lecherous looks by
virtue of being her beautiful self, light in a dark tunnel, same way she’d
always been.
Finger snapped in
front of his face. Again. “This is my place and I asked you a question.”
“This is your place?”
Vaughn asked. God, one hour back in Jersey and already his accent had thickened
from water to oil. “You hired River Purcell to clean up tables?”
“That’s right.”
Vaughn plowed a fist
into the underside of the man’s jaw, watching him fall backward onto the sticky
concrete floor with detachment that slowly morphed into satisfaction. So much
for calm, he thought, shaking out his right hand.
Tessa Bailey is originally from Carlsbad, California. The
day after high school graduation, she packed her yearbook, ripped jeans and
laptop, driving cross-country to New York City in under four days.
Her most valuable life experiences were learned
thereafter while waitressing at K-Dees, a Manhattan pub owned by her uncle.
Inside those four walls, she met her husband, best friend and discovered the
magic of classic rock, managing to put herself through Kingsborough Community
College and the English program at Pace University at the same time. Several
stunted attempts to enter the work force as a journalist followed, but romance
writing continued to demand her attention.
She now lives in Long Island, New York with her husband
of eight years and four-year-old daughter. Although she is severely
sleep-deprived, she is incredibly happy to be living her dream of writing about
people falling in love.
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